Poor Unfortunate Souls

By Trish Lamoree

Friend or Foe?
Who can walk the dreams like Jordan, use magic like Damian and is stalking Wiccan women?
Trick or Treat?
Tiara’s nightmares have always been scary... But they couldn’t kill, could they?
Proof or Poof?
Rianna’s always wanted to learn magic... But can she handle the real thing? Damian doesn’t think so.

The PSI Consulting team is going to have to get their act together fast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trish Lamoree
• Release date: Aug 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452398631

Trish Lamoree

About the Author: I live in Las Vegas with my loving husband, best friend, and beautiful daughter. I’ve worked as a Webmaster at a Strip casino where I “learned the business” from a variety of experts who were happy to tell me about what they did every day. From the layout of the casino floor to security and even into the basements... where people liked to talk about their jobs, I was there to listen. I don’t think anyone knew quite how much I heard from all those different people.I hope that you have enjoyed Never Smile at a Crocodile. If you haven’t read it already, Painting the Roses Red is the first book of this series, but I’ll warn you, it’s a hot steamy paranormal romance. This series will cross genres again in the third book of PSI Consulting. Look for it by the end of 2009. Thanks for reading.

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Poor Unfortunate Souls

By Trish Lamoree

Dedicated to:

My Family – They make me whole

And

Helen Acosta who reminded me why I write...

All of the characters in this book are fictitious,

and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead

is purely coincidental. While some locations may be real,

the situations and people in those locations are purely

created from the author’s imagination and not to be

confused or compared to real establishments, people, or events.

All artwork and illustrations also by:

Trish Lamoree

Original Photo of Tiara by:

Robert Kohlhuber

www.istockphoto.com/Roob

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by Trish Lamoree

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews. Please send any reproduction requests to [e-mail]

ISBN 1-4537-9482-4

EAN 978-1-4537-9482-1

Other works by Trish Lamoree Available at Smashwords:

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/trishlamoree

~ Prologue ~

The drums woke Tiara from a fitful sleep. At least she thought she was awake. It only took another moment for her to hope that she wasn’t. The beat of the drums echoed within the chamber of the caves in a familiar rhythm that she hadn’t heard since she’d found her way home to Jordan. The ritual called her. She didn’t want to answer.

Tiara let her fingers brush along the rough wall and refused to cringe at the slick feel. She moved forward through a narrow passage that led to a larger cave. Without looking at it, Tiara knew that the passage walls were bleeding. Some said that you didn’t smell things in your dreams, but Tiara would never forget the coppery taste that lingered at the back of her mouth whenever she smelled blood. She told herself sternly that the blood wasn’t real. It had never been real.

The walls of the passage were barely lit by the lantern-light that came from up ahead. Only the faintest shimmer of red against the walls reminded her of the blood. She could ignore that. She could also ignore the feel of it against the tips of her fingers. The scent and taste of it was harder, but Tiara moved forward against her better judgment. She refused to be cowed by the dreams that Jordan said could plague her for the rest of her life. Only by facing her fears would she conquer the insanity. Even the light seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums.

Tiara came to the opening of the special little cave where she’d first undergone the ritual. Timidly, she peeked into the cave. The shaman sat at the drums. The incense sent smoke up from four small braziers at the edges of the room. A small cauldron sat in the middle of the chamber over a campfire. The campfire was rimmed with raw crystals that reflected the light of the fire so that it danced on the walls. The walls, speckled with natural crystals, bounced the firelight wildly and yet oddly in the same rhythm as the drums.

Sitting at the fire, Tiara had expected to see an empty place for her as there had been on the night of her ritual. Instead, she saw another young woman leaning over the cauldron. The spirits of fire and air were wafting into the face of a woman Tiara didn’t think she’d seen before. Black hair, cropped short and rigid, tilted over the woman’s cheek like the shadow of a dagger as the woman leaned closer to the intoxicating brew.

Tiara reached out to stop her, but she was too far away. It was too dangerous. If she had seen herself, she might have remained an observer of the past, but within herself Tiara felt a sense of urgency that only the present could explain. Blood seethed from the walls, but the woman didn’t see it. The woman with the black hair didn’t understand the danger.

Tiara called out to the woman, but her voice was eclipsed by the continued beat of the drums. The shaman expertly shifted the fingertips, palms and heels of his hands over the three drums in a melody that raised the spirit of self and self-awareness. Tiara felt a wave of vertigo as she tried to follow the pattern of his hands. Her stomach lurched.

One also shouldn’t feel physical pain in dreams, but Tiara felt the shock of her knees scraping sandy stone. She’d fallen to her knees at the mouth of the little cave, helpless to stop the woman. In the throes of the drugs that brewed in the cauldron, Tiara knew that the woman felt no pain as the sacred knife sliced into the heel of her hand. Tiara hadn’t felt the pain of that cut either, though her hand bore the scar still fresh enough to itch now. Tiara moaned.

Blood now rained against Tiara as she sagged against the opening. Her knees stung. Her breath was ragged. The heel of her hand itched. Her stomach clenched and unclenched in a rhythm helplessly enslaved to the beat of the drums. For one fleeting moment, Tiara’s eyes locked with the black-haired woman’s. Tears of blood welled in the other woman’s eyes, and Tiara screamed silently as the madness overtook them both.

~ Chapter 1 ~

God save you if you feel as bad as you look, Rianna plopped onto a stool at the kitchen bar next to Tiara.

Back at you, Tiara muttered into her mug of chamomile tea.

Rianna was a bit surprised that she and Tiara looked equally ragged. Sitting at the kitchen bar, they each slumped forward with fatigue. Rianna had been working with Damian to learn magic, and the time had gotten away from her. She was exhausted from trying to master a spell Damian had warned her she wasn’t ready to tackle. Rianna didn’t like the idea that Damian had probably been right.

Does that mean we’re calling it a night? Damian called with a taunting smirk from the black leather couch across the room.

I called it a night four hours ago, Tiara groused, her normally polite manner a little rough around the edges.

Did we wake you? Rianna asked, concerned that she’d overstayed her welcome. Rianna and Damian were just guests; and while Damian was living here for the time being, neither wanted to get underfoot of the real owners of the Lair.

No, Tiara’s forced smile barely cracked the fatigue on her face. Dark circles smudged her eyes and her baggy sweats gave evidence that she’d been awakened from her cozy place next to Jordan. Rianna had gotten so lost in the lessons that she’d forgotten they were practicing in the home of her bosses, Jordan and Marcus.

The Lair, as they called it, should have been quiet this time of night. The underground retreat of the leaders of PSI Consulting was a rich masculine home built completely underground. The irony wasn’t lost on its occupants. The main room combined the kitchen, living room, and a game room, all in equal thirds.

We’re sorry, Tiara, Damian said formally.

Honestly, it wasn’t you, Tiara didn’t bother with the fake smile this time, but rather stared morosely at the cup in her hands. It’s amazing how much soundproofing a half foot of concrete can provide.

Jordan and Marcus had built the underground mansion with their own hands. It didn’t feel like a bat cave, no matter how much they joked about it. It looked and felt like a luxurious resort. A massive fireplace made of large river rocks dominated one corner of the main room. Comfortable couches sprawled around the fireplace with a television so big that it rivaled the fireplace for dominance in the room. That living room only took up a third of the room’s square footage.

The second third of the main room was a professional chef’s dream kitchen, complete with seating at the kitchen bar where a person could watch television, the cooking, or the game room. The game room took up the final third with a pool table, foosball, dartboard, and a poker table. A fully stocked liquor cabinet took up as much wall space in the game area as the fireplace and television in the living room.

There were no windows but moonlight filtered in through Marcus’s clever use of mirrors and tubes that fed outside light into the underground home. Even if Rianna and Damian hadn’t been up with most of the lights on, the glow of moonlight, through what looked like recessed lighting fixtures along the outside wall, would have lit the interior of the Lair with enough light for Tiara to stumble out to make her cup of tea. Wood paneled wainscoting and a creamy yellow paint job combined with ten foot ceilings made the Lair feel more light and airy than seemed possible with a completely underground home. Light oak hardwood floors and plush colorful area rugs gave it a cozy feel.

Jordan and Marcus each had their own suites in the Lair with this main room as the center. Tiara had only recently taken up residence with Jordan. Damian was bunking in a guest room until he found an apartment that suited him. Though Rianna was dating Marcus, she had her own apartment across town. Jordan teased that Rianna had already moved in considering all the time she spent at the Lair learning magic or hanging out with Marcus. He said she just slept somewhere else out of sheer stubbornness. Rianna had her reasons for needing her own space. Her relationships with Marcus and Damian had happened so quickly that Rianna still felt she needed an escape hatch.

Jordan and Marcus had finished their underground mansion and then set out to build a company that met their career goals as fully as the Lair completed their dreams of home. PSI Consulting was Jordan’s business and Marcus was his right-hand man. On the surface, PSI Consulting provided specialized security to casinos. That specialized security consisted of cleansing casinos of psychic cheaters. Jordan presented to the casinos the idea that only a psychic could catch a psychic.

Beneath the surface of the protection racket Jordan ran for casinos was another fulfilled dream for Jordan. Jordan collected psychics. None of them knew why he did it, but he was driven to collect and protect psychics from the vulgar realities of a world that didn’t believe in psychics or magic. Rianna was one of those psychics. She liked to think that she was a cherished member of the team, but it was still so new that her old insecurities made her emotionally cautious.

Rianna was torn between focusing on her own frazzled brain or Tiara’s haggard appearance. Tiara hadn’t come out any other night over the past few weeks that Rianna and Damian had been practicing late into the night. Tiara was Jordan’s wife. Rianna had watched Tiara go through a lot, but Tiara didn’t have a really good reason to like Rianna. It had been a few weeks since Rianna had been a party to breaking up Tiara’s honeymoon, and Rianna wasn’t sure how Tiara felt about her. Rianna tried really hard to stay polite with the boss’s wife.

I should get going, Rianna shook her head to clear the fuzz and scanned the room for her purse.

You’re going to drive? Tiara swung a tired gaze up at Rianna. Like that?

Like what? Rianna shrugged off her fatigue with a straightening of her shoulders and a polite smile.

Rianna, you’re exhausted, Tiara said. Tiara set her cup down and waved a hand at Damian. Are you really going to let her drive like this? She’ll fall asleep at the wheel on the way home.

Rianna shuffled over to her purse and headed toward the main elevator. The entrances above the Lair were through a few run-down trailers which disguised the mansion that existed underground. Piles of junk disguised the solar panels, air ducts, and sky lights as efficiently as the trailers hid the elevators. The decorative wind generators that posed as garish whirligigs combined with the solar panels managed to keep their electricity consumption low enough that the place even seemed like a run-down couple of trailers to the electric company. It was quite a set-up.

As if I could control Rianna, Damian quipped, seemingly uninterested in the debate.

Rianna tried to ignore them both as she dug her keys out of her purse. Some part of her paused at the elevator door as she always did. She always felt that twinge when she walked through the stage-set trailer upstairs. Jordan’s sets were too real. It was amazing what one could do with a bucket of polyurethane.

Rianna had grown up in foster homes and one had been just like that trailer, down to the half-open pizza box and half-drunk cans of beer. It hadn’t been a good home. There were good ones and bad ones. If you didn’t play your cards right, you could get kicked out of a good home because one other person took umbrage against you. Rianna had spent the past few weeks becoming a full fledged member of the PSI Consulting family of psychics. Tiara was the only one left who had the power to make Rianna an outcast again. Rianna didn’t want to give her any excuses.

What has you awake at this time of night, Tiara? Damian asked, his tone one of polite interest.

Bad dreams is all, Rianna barely heard Tiara’s offhand reply, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. Rianna wanted to get on that elevator and walk away from this conversation. She wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard. It was the one thing that would stop her from driving home with her radio blaring and then falling into her nice quiet bed for some much needed sleep.

The elevator closed without her on it and she sighed.

What kind of bad dreams? Rianna turned back to the room and plopped her purse back onto the ledge around the fireplace. Rianna had tried to ask the question as casually as Tiara had dropped the bomb, but Rianna wasn’t as good at subtlety as Tiara was. Tiara gave Rianna a keen look and paused long enough to create a mild tension.

Tiara wasn’t all there. A month ago, Tiara had put herself through an ancient Indian ritual that had been intended as an advanced form of spirit walk. In essence, Tiara had gotten high on some pretty potent drugs and let herself be dumped in the middle of nowhere to find her way home. Rianna wasn’t sure what drugs the shaman had intended to use, but Tiara had upped the ante and used more.

In Rianna’s mind, the Indian ritual part hadn’t been nearly as spooky as the drugs. As far as Rianna had seen, Tiara had had a bad trip with a magical whammy backfire. The shaman overseeing the ceremony had warned them of only one complication; if Tiara saw blood in her dreams, they should call the whole thing off immediately. Only how do you get a person who doesn’t even know you anymore to admit that they’re dreaming in blood?

Tiara hadn’t thought that part out, or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to think that anything could go wrong. The goal had been to increase Tiara’s mediocre psychic powers so that she could keep up with Jordan. It was stupid. Jordan had adored her with mediocre powers and her full sanity. He even loved Tiara now that she had pretty considerable powers and about half her sanity. Then again, people did stupid things for love.

I’m sure it’s nothing, Tiara lied. Rianna could see the lie because that was one of the first tricks Damian had ever shown her.

Would Jordan think it’s nothing? Rianna challenged.

Tiara had not only seen blood in her dreams, but also in her waking nightmares. The worst of it was that she hadn’t told them about it. The fact that she had lost her memory for the spirit walk had meant that she hadn’t trusted the crew of PSI Consulting to help her. Rianna had been on watch a few of the times Tiara had lost her temper.

Marcus would scoff at it, Tiara bantered back with a tight smile.

Marcus scoffs at all magic, Rianna blew that diversion off.

Even when it’s happening in front of his eyes, Damian put in, his easy good humor belying the fact that he could sense the tension even if he didn’t know where it came from.

While all the crew at PSI Consulting were misfits, Damian was literally misplaced in this world. Damian didn’t know about Tiara’s experience because he had been in another world when it had happened; literally. Rianna had pulled Damian through a portal from another world less than three weeks ago. A refugee from his world, Damian had settled into life with the misfits of this one. He seemed content to stay.

Damian’s world was full of those who could do magic, but he didn’t like to talk about it much. He was more than happy to teach Rianna as much magic as she could learn. As far as Rianna was concerned, that made Damian too good to be true. She was convinced that he would disappear before she could learn it all.

Even when he’s doing it himself, Tiara cocked her head pointedly at Damian. The air crackled with the flow of innuendo.

And that’s my cue to exit, stage left, Damian chuckled, quoting from some old movie or television show.

Damian’s translation spell allowed him to understand any language, but his cultural references came almost exclusively from his latest hobby of watching cable television and Jordan and Marcus’s eclectic collection of movies. Every once in a while, Damian would try out one of the catch phrases he heard on television to see if it worked. In this case, Rianna could see him mentally crossing this reference off his list of colloquialisms as he noticed the blank looks on their faces. He turned with a smile and walked away.

Rianna shook her head at his retreating back. He moved with a purely sexual, fluid grace down the hallway to the guest rooms. He was fun to watch and her mind thirsted for his knowledge with a passion, but he just didn’t do it for her sexually. Still, when he walked away like this, Rianna wondered what must be wrong with her not to have chosen Damian over Marcus. Luckily for Marcus, these moments didn’t happen often.

Really, I’m just going to finish my tea and head right back to bed, Tiara took a large sip and circled the kitchen island to the sink. See? Almost done.

Nice try, Rianna tried for diplomatic, but she wasn’t good at it. What kind of dreams?

I woke up to a world covered in blood, Tiara snarled uncharacteristically. A short honeymoon is not going to erase that.

Rianna felt the unintentional jibe. Tiara’s honeymoon had been shortened because of Rianna’s troubles with some very stupid bodyguards. With all the active members of PSI Consulting kidnapped and the time-sensitive ransom demand sent to Jordan’s empty office, it had been determined that someone had to contact Jordan even if that did mean interrupting his honeymoon. Damian had tried to teleport and, still unfamiliar with this world’s magic, had ended up naked in their honeymoon suite. Luckily, he’d managed to croak out Marcus’s name before he’d promptly passed out cold.

While Rianna realized logically that it had all seemed necessary at the time, she hadn’t emotionally released her guilt over being the one responsible. Jordan had gotten sick of Rianna’s guilt and ordered her to shut up about it, but Rianna couldn’t help still feeling the twang of guilt, especially around Tiara. Rianna wasn’t sure that Tiara forgave her.

You’re dreaming of blood again? Rianna pushed, hoping that she wasn’t taking her life in her hands.

It’s only natural to be having nightmares after what I’ve been through, Tiara temporized. I would think that even a psychologist would agree that it would be more worrisome if I weren’t having bad dreams.

Is there blood? Rianna persisted.

Tiara took a final sip from her cup and washed it in the sink before answering. Rianna could feel the energies that Tiara put off. When Tiara was stressed, she tended to emit a certain magical static that, at best, annoyed anyone near her who was even remotely psychic. At the worst so far, Tiara could make those around her see the visions of blood.

Tiara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused. Rianna knew that Tiara funneled her excess magical energy into Marcus. Marcus was a natural ground. He could turn it on and off, but it was on unless he concentrated enough to turn it off for a while. That was Marcus’s talent, and it had saved Tiara from insanity. Rianna hoped that Tiara was funneling into Marcus now.

I’m fine, Tiara leaned on her hands, braced against the edge of the sink.

Convince me or I wake Marcus and Jordan right now, Rianna hard-balled.

Rianna hadn’t been there, but Marcus had told her about the Renaissance Faire. Tiara had seemed to get stressed and set the whole park on fire. To anyone remotely psychic, the faire had seemed to be going up in smoke with all the people in it. When the psychic smoke had cleared, Tiara had only burned a hole in some woman’s dress, but it was enough.

Rianna didn’t want to be in the middle of this. If she told Marcus and Jordan, Tiara would be mad at her. If she didn’t tell her boss that Tiara was seeing blood again, he’d fire her in a second no matter how good she was at magic. Some people could slough off nightmares, but Tiara couldn’t.

I’m too tired for this right now, Tiara slumped. Wake them if you want, but by the time they wake up, I’ll be asleep. It can wait for morning.

Then I guess I’ll stay for breakfast, Rianna said firmly.

Tiara shrugged and padded back down the hallway to her own room as Rianna contemplated whether to snuggle in with Marcus or shack up in one of the many guest rooms. Wrung out from her session with Damian and a confrontation with Tiara, Rianna didn’t want to do either. She got as far as the couch and settled in to take a short nap. Jordan would wake with the dawn and she didn’t want to miss him before he headed in to the office.

~ Chapter 2 ~

Jordan kissed his wife’s forehead before he took a shower and headed out to the main room to make a pot of coffee. He smiled at finding Rianna curled up on the couch like a pet cat. Rianna practically disappeared into the huge cushions. Marcus wouldn’t be happy that she hadn’t come into his bed; but Rianna, like any cat, was willful. Jordan had a longer view than his best friend. The fact that Rianna had stayed the night here at all was a step in the right direction.

Jordan drank a full cup of coffee, contemplating his guest at leisure. He felt a deep satisfaction that his dreams were manifesting as he’d hoped. Jordan didn’t mind his home becoming the focal point of his little band of psychics. On the contrary, Jordan enjoyed it. Rianna’s body slept soundly in his presence, not because she was overly tired, but rather because she trusted him. Her conscious mind might not be ready to admit it yet, but his family was becoming her family, and that set just right with Jordan’s plans. Jordan let himself feel the contentedness of the moment.

Pouring two cups of coffee, he headed over to the couch to wake her before Marcus did. Jordan would have a gentler hand at it, and she’d be feisty if she wasn’t woken up nicely. Jordan perched his lean form on the coffee table and blew the scent of coffee toward Rianna’s sleeping form. With a mischievous smile, Jordan enjoyed watching